


The Lone Wolf's Atonement

by mizdiz



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, One Shot, Season/Series 10, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: "She’s talking strategy and it sounds like gibberish to Daryl, because all he can think about is how blue her eyes are, and the way she’s wetting her bottom lip with her tongue as she schemes. She’s thinking survival, and he’s stuck in this moment full of loose ends and words unsaid."10.16 speculation/headcanon; s10 spoilers
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	The Lone Wolf's Atonement

Daryl can still remember when love was elusive. He can remember how he used to treat emotions with a fight-or-flight reflex, as if they were something that existed to harm him. It didn’t matter if it was anger or affection coming towards him—he feared them all the same.

He can still remember, but that’s the thing of it: The elusivity of love is a memory, nothing more, because now he’s grown, with enough heartache, trauma, redemption, hope, loss, you name it, to fill twenty lifetimes, and through it all he’s learned that he’s allowed to feel without fighting or fleeing.

And what he feels, more than anything else, is an all-consuming love for her. It’s a love that was planted a decade ago, and against the odds, despite all it’s weathered, has only grown, its roots buried deep all the way to the Earth’s core. 

And he's tired of pushing it to the wayside. 

There was always an excuse. 

Early on he was worried he wasn't worth enough to have her. Then she was too hurt, and it was hard enough getting her to stay in one place, and how selfish would it be for him to bog her down with his own wants and desires? 

And then they were finally stable, and the King swooped in, and Daryl had just watched as another man did what he'd been too cowardly to do, and when she told him about the proposal he gave his fucking blessing, as if it didn't tear him up inside. 

Then for years she would sneak out of the Kingdom and join him in his modest camp, and there were nights where they'd eat dinner under the stars in silence, and he would consider telling her—the words would be  _ right _ there on the tip of his tongue—but then he'd think of Henry, and how easy she smiled nowadays, and he would rebuke himself for wanting her to give up her whole life for  _ him _ .

But Henry was gone now. So was the Kingdom, and her marriage, and that fairytale life she lived, and she’s back in reality with him. And surely she knows he'd sacrifice any part of himself in a millisecond to make her happy again, but he can't resurrect her children, and he can’t make the world something it’s not. All he has to offer is a torch that's been burning only for her since a little girl got lost in the woods.

She was so close to leaving again.

But she came back.

A dislocated shoulder, dirt on her clothes, and tear tracks on her cheeks—he could tell she’d been trying to run.

_ But she came back. _

And once again they're in the fight of their lives, and they might not make it home, but she's right here at his side, and he's tired of excuses.

Love is not elusive.

Love is right here in the hallway of this hospital, radiating around them, humming like electricity, and today he's not gonna fight it. He's not gonna flee.

He's staying right here until it's freed.

*

Nobody ever taught Carol what it meant to be in love. So when Ed would bust her lip and then kiss it better, she thought, well maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

Once upon a time she was a godly woman; the type to fill the church pews every weekend. And when the pastor preached about sin she figured the bruises hidden under the long sleeves of her Sunday best had to be punishment; that she had earned the type of love she received. 

She stopped believing that a long time ago, of course. The doubts started seeping in when she couldn’t reconcile having the walking embodiment of innocence, her sinless daughter with golden hair and a timid disposition, suffer like she did in order to punish  _ her _ . And the longer time passed, and the more blood she watched being spilled, Carol came to the conclusion that there was no deity passing judgement on her. But that was alright. She didn’t need it. No God could ever judge her as harshly as she judged herself.

What she experienced with Ed wasn’t love. She knows that now. It was just a punishment she subjected herself to because she thought it was what she was owed for being the imperfect person she’s always been. 

What she experienced with Ezekiel wasn’t love. Not the kind a marriage was meant to be built on, anyway. And she knew her life in the Kingdom wasn’t real, and with the tally of deaths on her hands she knew she didn’t belong, but they had a son, and that son deserved the fairytale. So she stayed—a reluctant queen to a king she didn’t love.

It wasn’t Ezekiel’s fault she couldn’t feel for him the way he felt for her. It was just that her heart was not open for the taking; someone had already taken residence inside of it, and wasn’t leaving any time soon. 

Nobody ever taught Carol how to love, but she learned on her own, when a rough man with a gentle soul set a beer bottle with a single rose in her room in a cramped RV and told her how mother nature was blooming flowers to dry her tears. 

She loves him still, with a depth she’ll never be able to fully put into words, but even though there is no god demanding repentance from her, she is damning herself. Her version of hellfire is accepting that she can never have him; can never taint him with the cloud of destruction she brings with her everywhere she goes. 

But if she can’t be his lover, then she’ll sure as shit be his protector. 

The groans of the walkers surrounding the hospital are loud enough to rattle the windows. Not everyone is getting out of here alive, that’s what Daryl said, but he is. He is walking out the front doors when this is over, back home to the future he deserves. She’ll make sure of it. Carol is a superhero, with the power of the lone wolf, and she will save him.

No one taught her how to express love, either. 

This is the best that she’s got. 

*

“When we meet back up with the others let’s split up,” Carol says, ducking her head around the corner and checking to see if anyone, friend or foe, is headed their way. “You can take the north wing, and I’ll take the south.”

She’s talking strategy and it sounds like gibberish to Daryl, because all he can think about is how blue her eyes are, and the way she’s wetting her bottom lip with her tongue as she schemes. She’s thinking survival, and he’s stuck in this moment full of loose ends and words unsaid.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asks.

“What?” she asks, knitting her brows together. “It’s fine. Why?” 

“How’d you knock it out of the socket? I never asked. I should have.”

Carol huffs, dismissive and annoyed, and says, “Daryl, is now really the time?” 

“No. The time was ten years ago,” he mutters.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Daryl stares at her, taking her all in. There are flyaways in the complicated bun on the back of her head; strands of the hair she’s grown to prove she’s not the woman who can be yanked and thrown around like a ragdoll anymore. There are white lines of faded scars, and red angry ones of fresh wounds. Her skin is sun-kissed and dirty. Everything about her says she’s a fighter—a survivor—but Daryl knows her well enough to know that she will consider herself expendable if it comes down to it, and he’s not about to let her get away with that.

“Are you done being reckless?” he asks her, and he regrets his phrasing the instant her cheeks redden in shame, thinking he’s berating her, and warning her not to cause a repeat performance of the cave. “I need you to be careful,” he clarifies. “‘Cause I’m not leaving this hospital without you.”

Eyes widening in surprise, she reminds him, “Not everyone is gonna survive this.”

“Maybe. But you are,” he tells her with conviction, and he can hear her response before she opens her mouth to say it. She’s gonna say that she’s going to do what she has to do, and that she’s not a priority. She’s gonna claim the younger girls need to make it out alive, and is gonna try and convince him that she isn’t important, and a whole slew of other bullshit, and he doesn’t want to hear a single syllable of it, so he cuts her off at the pass. Gently, but with purpose, he takes hold of her chin in his hand and looks her dead in the eye.

“Daryl?” 

“Stop it,” he says. “You don’t get to die to make amends. This ain’t a test, this is war, and I’m not letting you be a casualty ‘cause you think you got somethin’ to atone for. Leave the repentance up to God, or chance, or luck, or whatever, and stay the fuck alive.”

*

His fingers are pressed against her jawline and she has to fight the impulse to yank herself away as if she’s been burned, because it’s too much. How’s she meant to prepare to do anything to save him if he’s standing here demanding her survival and touching her so sweetly?

“You’ve got people depending on you,” she forces herself to say. “You have a family back home that needs you.”

“And you think you don’t?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at her, and there’s not much she can other than shrug.

“Not the way you do,” she says, ignoring the shallow ache in her belly at the admission. How and when did she manage to push everyone away? Or did she ever really have them to begin with? It’s been a lifetime and a half since Rick abandoned her with a few days’ worth of supplies and a car key, but the wound still stings. Daryl has become essential to everyone—has grown into a man of honor she’s always dreamed of having as her own—and she’s so damn proud of him. But while he’s been growing, she’s been becoming a lurker in the shadows. She lives on the sidelines, crucial to no one, nuisance to several, and her one saving grace is she can fight. That’s what she has to offer the group. That’s how she can show she cares. Surely Daryl can see that?

“Asskicker told me she’s scared of losing you,” he says.

“Judith hardly knows me,” Carol says, equal parts sad that the baby she once held protectively in her arms grew up to the cusp of young adulthood without her, and eternally grateful she wasn’t there to hurt the little girl with the curse she imparts on every child that crosses her path.

“That’s bull and you know it. You’ve saved her life, more than once,” Daryl says. “Hell, you’ve saved all our lives. You’re practically a legend—a woman that all the kids’ grandkids will be tellin’ stories about.”

“Don’t make me sound like a hero, but whatever, they can tell their stories. But legends don’t become legends until they’re gone, Daryl. People mourn the idea of a legend, not the legend itself.”

Daryl huffs through his nostrils, growing impatient, his hand still holding her chin.

“How about this then,” he says. “I can’t lose you.”

That hits hard. It’s a goddamn lie, of course, an echo of words she’s said to him in the past, but damnit if it doesn’t break her heart.

“Yes you can,” she says.

“No. I can’t.”

“You’ve lost worse.” She counts them in her head. Rick, Merle, Glenn,  _ Connie _ .

“No I haven’t.” When she scoffs he levels his gaze on hers even more severely. “Carol. I haven’t.” 

This is what she’s feared—that she’s somehow convinced him she’s a vital part of his life. She knows he cares for her, but she’s not a necessity. 

“I’m not trying to die, but if I do, you’ll get through it. You said it yourself. You have a future.”

“ _ We. _ I said  _ we _ have a future.”

“I’m just in the way. You deserve to find someone to call your own; to build a life with her. To not be alone. And I will never forgive myself for taking that woman away from you.”

Daryl lets go of her and brings both hands to his face, mumbling incoherently into his palms. She watches him curiously, cognizant of the scritch-scratching of walker nails on the outside walls of the hospital, but more engrossed in the conversation at hand. The war can wait until she gets Daryl to understand that she is not a compulsory fixture in his life; that he deserves so much more.

“You’re fuckin’ stupid sometimes, you know that?” Daryl says, voice still muffled.

“I’m just telling the truth,” she says, mildly offended. Daryl drops his arms like weights and squints at her like she’s some sort of optical illusion he’s trying to understand. 

“Fuck this,” he says abruptly. He takes a step well into her personal space, cups her face in both hands, and, with no preamble, presses his lips to hers.

*

He can feel her entire body go rigid under his touch, but he doesn’t let up. In fact, he steps in even closer, until their torsos are flush together. It’s less like kissing, and more like staking a claim. 

_ You _ are the one I’m building a life with, he says with his lips.

_ You _ are my future.

_ You _ are the one I love, have loved, and will love until the day I die, which, with the way things are going, may be today, but I certainly hope not, because we have a lot of lost time to make up for.

He only pulls away when he’s forced to breathe. He looks at her. He’s not sure he’s ever seen abject terror, crushing sadness, and blooming hope compiled into a single expression like this before. 

“I don’t want to lose any of them,” Daryl says, voice raspy. “But you can bet your ass that you’re the least expendable out of all of ‘em. At least you are to me.”

*

She could cry. Or, she realizes, is already crying, fat tears flooding her eyes and spilling down, hitting Daryl’s thumbs stroking her cheekbones, feather-light.

“Don’t do this,” she says. “You can’t do this.”

“Why’d you come back, Carol? What was the point of coming back if you’re just gonna jump at the first chance to leave me forever?”

“I came back for you,” she whispers. “I had to make sure you were safe. I came back to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection. I need  _ you _ .” 

He lets her cough out a couple wet sobs before speaking again in the careful, tender tone he uses when he needs her to listen; to really hear him.

“Alpha’s dead, but you’re still hurtin’, and that’s ‘cause it was never about that. It was about everythin’ you lost, and I don’t just mean your son. I  _ know _ what you’ve been through, sweetheart, I know you better than anyone, and so I need you to trust me when I tell you that you deserve so much more than what you’re willing to accept.

“I wanna give that life to you, Carol. You hear me? I ain’t perfect neither, the both of us are fucked up beyond belief, and some wounds ain’t never gonna heal completely, but it’s like I told Asskicker—not everything that follows is gonna break your heart. Hell, if we do this right, maybe we can put some of the pieces back where they belong. Would you do that? Let me put the pieces back?”

“I want to,” she says when she’s able. “God, I want to, but I’m terrified of bringing you down with me, Daryl. I can’t do that to you.”

“You ever consider that maybe instead of you bringin’ me down, I could help you up?”

“But what if you can’t? What if the risk is too big?”

“It ain’t,” Daryl says with certainty. “A risk like that would never be too big if it’s for the person you love.”

And just like that Carol’s breath is knocked right out of her lungs.

*

He watches her process the big L word, a momentary wave of nervous butterflies fluttering in his belly as a juvenile flush of insecurity hits him, like maybe he’s spent all this time worrying about  _ how _ to tell her he’s in love with her that he forgot to consider that maybe she might not return the sentiment.

But then she takes a long steadying breath and tilts her head up. Without a second thought, he meets her halfway, and this time the kiss isn’t about proving a point. Her hands snake up his chest, and come to rest loosely around his shoulders as she opens her mouth and glides her tongue over his.

He can’t remember the last time he’s kissed anyone, but he knows without a doubt that he’s never been kissed like  _ this _ . With this level of passion and adoration. Lungs burning, he debates if suffocating here with his lips on hers would really be the worst way to go.

He’s still contemplating it when she breaks the kiss, immediately resting her forehead against his chest and staying there. He puts one hand on the back of her head, and rubs up and down her spine with the other, nuzzling his cheek against her temple.

“We still have to fight,” she reminds him, not moving from her spot wrapped up against him.

“I know.” 

“I can’t promise I won’t get hurt. I can’t promise I won’t die.”

“Know that, too. But promise me you won’t do anythin’ to put yourself in danger on my account. We’re a team, Carol, you and me. You ain’t in this alone.”

There’s a long pause.

“I don’t know how to be a part of a team,” she whispers. “I’m a lone wolf.”

“Not anymore you ain’t,” Daryl tells her, tightening his arms around her. In the distance he can hear the footsteps of the others returning. “You fight with me, not for me, you understand?” 

“I understand.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” 

Daryl nods and plants a kiss on the crown of her head. Just before he’s about to pull away he takes a moment to whisper in her ear,

“I love you, Carol. So fuckin’ much, and no matter what.”

A shudder goes through her and he hears her sniffle. Her fingers grip his shirt. 

“I love you, too,” she says, like it takes every ounce of her willpower to admit it. “And it scares the shit out of me.” She lifts her head up to look at him.

“Yeah well,” Daryl says, smiling at her. “Since when has a lil’ fear ever stopped us from gettin’ shit done?” 

**Author's Note:**

> :finger guns:  
> -diz


End file.
